


One Way Ticket

by sunalso



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No SHIELD (Marvel), Christmas, F/M, Happy Ending, Light Angst, MHEA Holiday Movie 2019, New York City, Only One Bed, Road Trips, Runaway Bride, Snow, Snowball Fight, Snowed In, Wedding Dress, Will (Agents of SHIELD) is kind of an ass, background Mackelena (agents of shield), snuggling to keep warm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21595195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: AU. The day before her Christmas Eve wedding, Jemma's stranded in Ohio. Luckily, a friend gets her a ride to New York. Unluckily for nearly-a-bride Jemma, the man sharing the backseat with her is a grumpy Scottish engineer who quickly captures her mind, and maybe her heart. The storm catches up to them and they find themselves snowed in at a Pennslyvania B&B with only one bed. Will Jemma and Fitz discover what they truly want in love and life before it's time for her to walk down the aisle?Beta'd by Gort
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 94
Kudos: 154
Collections: MHEA Holiday Movie Challenge 2019





	1. White Christmas

The Cleveland airport should have a sign welcoming people to hell instead of Ohio.

Jemma plunked her arse down on the floor, all the chairs near the check-in counter being already occupied with travelers. An ache had settled between her shoulder blades, and she hunched her back, trying to stretch. Her roller bag was on her left side, and the heavy garment bag containing her wedding dress covered her legs.

“I’m sure I’m stuck,” she said into her mobile. “It’s a bloody mess here.” Her flight from Houston to Chicago had been diverted because of weather, and now the departures board was a sea of red cancellations. People were yelling at each other and the beleaguered staff, but they were upset with good reason since they were stranded two days before Christmas. She wanted to holler along with them.

“What about rental cars?” Will asked, his voice difficult to hear over the shouting.

“Gone. All gone. I checked.”

He sighed. “Jemma, this is our wedding. You need to be in New York. I told you not to fly in the day before.”

She didn’t even try to argue about how delicate her experiment was and that she’d had to finish up recording results before leaving. The spores and the toxins they produced hadn’t made a dent into her astronaut fiancé’s world. The subject was very technical, and she’d stopped trying to explain it months ago.

“I know. I’ll be there.”

“Fine. I’m expecting it. Call me when you know your ETA.”

The line went dead. Jemma lowered the mobile with a frown. Will asking her to marry him had been one of the highlights of her life. That someone as interesting as an astronaut would want her by his side had made her preen. And he was handsome. He didn’t make her toes curl, but by all objective measures, he was very good looking.

And she’d understood that with his schedule of training and public appearances that she’d have to make allowances in her own schedule to make their lives together work. She just hadn’t known how many. Military to the core, Will ran everything on a tight schedule and hated when something happened to disrupt it. Like a flight grounded because of a major snowstorm.

Jemma had tried to get him to reschedule their wedding when he’d announced it’d be on Christmas Eve in New York. Her parents couldn’t make it, for starters, and Jemma’s experiment with the dendrotoxins had always been planned to conclude during winter break. But Will had insisted, and he’d already booked the church.

So Christmas Eve it was.

There simply hadn’t been a way for her to predict a massive blizzard when she’d booked the flight in September.

Jemma stared glumly at her mobile. She needed a spot of tea.

A text message popped up from Jemma’s best friend, Daisy, who also couldn’t make New York for the wedding. Cybersecurity was a busy field over the holidays.

**You in Chicago?**

**No.** Jemma typed. **Cleveland.**

**Why the hell are you in Cleveland?**

**Turn on the telly. There’s a storm system. I’m never making New York. Every flight’s canceled, every rental car is gone, every bus is full, every train seat booked. I’m stranded.** Jemma pushed a lock of her long, dark hair behind her ear. It had a good deal more volume than usual in preparation for tomorrow and continuously fell in her face, making her spare.

Three dots appeared, then: **Wait.**

Jemma dropped her face into her hands. She needed to book a hotel, or she’d be spending the night on the grimy, cold airport floor.

Her phone buzzed.

 **I win all the best friend awards**. Daisy’s message said. **I got you a ride.**

Jemma thought she might cry. **You did?**

**Yeah, friends of mine. They work with my dad. Mack and his wife Elena. They’re on their way from Chicago to New York to spend Christmas with Elena’s parents. They’ve already got a passenger, some engineer, but said they don’t mind one more.**

**Alphonso Mackenzie? That Mack? I met him at a planetary conference.**

**That guy! They’re driving a green Volvo station wagon and should be there in like five minutes. Better hurry. I’d told them you were the girl with the huge garment bag.**

**Will wanted a ballgown style wedding dress.**

**Then he should wear it.** A rolling eye emoji accompanied the message.

Jemma laughed. She didn’t mind the dress. Will had a specific vision for the day, and since the details weren’t as important to her, she didn’t mind the dress with all its silk and tulle.

She sent a message to Will, saying she’d gotten a ride.

 **K,** he texted back. She waited for more, but when nothing else followed, she tucked the phone in her purse and hurried outside.

****

Fitz crossed his arms and leaned back against the Volvo’s seat. He couldn’t complain about the new passenger since Mack was giving him a ride to New York, but Fitz wanted to.

A bride.

He was going to be stuck for hours with a bride, listening to her chit chat about place settings and cake. His stomach growled. Cake would be wonderful right about now.

“That’s her,” Mack said, pointing to someone that Fitz didn’t bother moving to be able to see. Pulling the car over, Mack parked it next to the curb and got out.

Elena glanced back. “Be nice.” Fitz nodded once, and she tsked at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to come over on Christmas morning? My Papi makes the best hojuelas.”

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine. I’ll call my mum, and I have work to do.”

Elena looked like she wanted to argue, but instead, she got out to greet the new passenger. She left the car door open. Cold air nipped at his nose and made him shiver. There were greetings Fitz couldn’t quite hear, and then the rear hatch opened, and Fitz hunkered down in his seat as the oil scented air became even chillier.

“Thank you, my dress fits right on top,” said the women in a distinct English accent. Fitz groaned. Just want he wanted, to have the backseat invaded by the bloody English.

The hatch closed, Mack and Elena returned to their seats, and the bride opened the rear door and sat down. Fitz looked over at her and nearly undid his seatbelt so he could flee into the waning winter daylight.

Of course, she had to be gorgeous. Of course. And smell like summer. Her shiny lips curved into a smile and her warm brown eyes met his. Her smile faulted for a brief moment, but then returned full force.

She had freckles, along with dark hair that framed her face and tumbled past her shoulders. It shone like silk, and he wanted to sink his fingers into to see if it felt the same way.

“Hello,” she said, holding out a hand. He blindly reached for it.

“Your fingers are freezing,” Fitz said as he shook them. The chill made gooseflesh race up his arm before he dropped his hand back into his lap.

Her face lit up. “You’re Scottish!”

“Aye,” he said with an eye roll.

“I’m Dr. Jemma Simmons. It’s very nice to meet you.”

His brain, which had been busy cataloging every glorious angle of her nose, abruptly went on red alert. He sat up and leaned towards her.

“S-S-Simmons? Jemma Simmons? Biochemist out of Houston that did the seminal work on neurotoxins?”

Fitz realized that her previous smile had been fake as a real grin spread over her face. “That’s me! You’ve read my work?”

“Yes! You should have won a Nobel Prize for it and would have if the wankers on the committee didn’t have their heads up their arses.” Jemma beamed. “Do you mind if I ask—”

“Jemma,” Mack interrupted as he pulled away from the curb. “This is Dr. Leopold Fitz.”

“Just Fitz,” he grumbled and mentally prepared to explain his research, only to have his thoughts interrupted by Jemma’s squeal.

“You designed the A-317 centrifuge, and the papers you wrote on the physics and how…” she trailed off and sighed dreamily.

Something funny happened in Fitz’s chest. It got very warm and ached a little. He rubbed at it.

Jemma giggled and flopped back against her seat, which made her breasts do something in her jumper that Fitz had to wrench his eyes away from. He scrambled for his tablet.

“You had a question?” she asked, her eyes studying him. “I can’t believe we’re in the same car.” He couldn’t either. Not only because she was exactly the person to ask about his work, but because she was the most astounding woman he’d ever met. Her work was brilliant, and she knew his. Dr. Simmons had read his work. The only way the day could have been better is if it turned out she’d brought a pet monkey along.

He took a deep breath and tried to focus. “Yes, a question. About the concentration of…let me show you what I’m working on.”

Jemma scooted over as much as her belt would let her as he powered on his tablet.

“Are you two going to talk science the entire time?” Elena asked, glancing back.

Fitz answered at the same time as Jemma. “Yes.”

****

Fitz lost track of time. Of anything that wasn’t Jemma.

His stomach had rumbled at some point, and she had promptly produced a granola bar out of her purse and handed it to him without either of them pausing the conversation.

Their knees had been touching for most of the trip, and without meaning to, he started touching her wrist or arm while talking, and she did the same.

Jemma finished his sentences, he completed hers, and more importantly, she kept up with him. Actually, he might be barely keeping up with her. They’d been diving deep into the non-lethal weapon he’d been working on, and she’d had some insight on cartridge material, and he’d asked some questions about dendrotoxins that had gotten her mind whirling, and she was certain that together they could turn his preliminary designs of night-night gun into a working non-lethal weapon.

Fitz felt like he was flying.

He hadn’t even realized they’d turned off I-80 until they car stopped.

Jemma glanced up, a line between her brows. “Why did we stop?”

“Combustion engines need fuel,” Mack said. “Plus it’s getting dark. The snow’s starting to come down hard. Time to check the weather.”

“Oh, well, I’ll use the loo then. Do you want anything from the shop, Fitz?”

“I’ll be in to do the same and grab myself a drink.”

Jemma nodded, got out of the station wagon, and hurried after Elena towards the brightly lit convenience store. Fitz stood, stretched, and completely failed at not watching Jemma’s arse. The trousers she had on under a short jacket hugged her hips in a way that made Fitz jealous.

A hand landed on his shoulder. “You doing okay?” Mack asked.

“What? Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because that girl is getting married tomorrow.”

Fitz’s stomach dropped, hard, and went skittering across the icy pavement of the gas station. He’d forgotten. “Um...yes, well.” Fitz shrugged, even as everything inside him screamed. She belonged to someone else. She loved someone else.

“Every time I glanced into the backseat, you had the biggest heart eyes and looked like you were ready to kiss the hell out of her. Honestly, at the rate you’re going, she’d be pregnant before she got to New York.”

Despite the winter air, Fitz’s cheeks burned. He’d mostly been enjoying their work-related discussion, but Mack wasn’t too far off about what had been going on in the back of Fitz’s mind. “I like talking to her,” he hedged.

“I noticed. You’ve said more words to her in the last couple hours than I’ve heard you speak in the last three years put together.”

“And it doesn’t matter,” Fitz said, kicking a patch of gravel as Mack fueled up the Volvo. “As you said, she’s engaged.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s not going to break your heart.”

“What?” Fitz shook his head. He might not have known her very long, but her caring nature shone through everything she did. “Jemma wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Turbo, she’s been looking like she wants to be part of the earlier mentioned baby-making. So be careful, alright? I don’t know her that well, she might be looking to have a last fling before tying the knot or something.”

“Don’t be absurd. She’s interested in my work, and we’re hammering out a collaboration. Jemma is not interested in my…she’s only interested in research possibilities.”

Mack’s gaze narrowed.

“I’m getting crisps,” Fitz said, turning and shuffling towards the store and trying not to imagine a different world, one where he wasn’t cursed, and he’d met Jemma when she wasn’t about to become another man’s wife.

****

Jemma washed her hands before splashing water on her face.

She needed to leave the restroom, but that would mean seeing Fitz, which was a problem. It’d been a small problem for those first few seconds after she’d sat down in the car and found that her traveling companion was insanely hot with his blue eyes, scruff, nice jaw, and long-fingered hands.

But then he’d spoken in that wonderful lilt of his and it turned out all her common sense had stayed in Houston. Fitz had become a huge problem. He knew her work. All of it. He understood it and had applications for it she hadn’t thought of yet. Never had Jemma felt more challenged and inspired.

Fitz was brilliant. A genius.

Her toes had curled in her sensible pumps.

This couldn’t be happening. She’d been expecting a boring car ride across Pennsylvania, not to find a person that fit her like a glove. Her imagination took off at a gallop. Naughty images that’d been circling for hours crowded into the front of her mind, and in each of them, she was the one playing the role of the glove.

Jemma dried her hands as she pushed the thoughts away. She just needed to call her fiancé. Her sudden attraction to Fitz was probably regular pre-wedding jitters. Tomorrow she’d be standing in front of hundreds of people and vowing to love, cherish, and obey Will.

Her stomach soured, and Jemma put a hand over it as she opened the bathroom door. Her shoulder hit Elena’s as they passed each other in the narrow hallway.

“Sorry,” Jemma said.

Elena’s hand gripped her arm, holding her in place. “What are you doing?” Elena asked, tilting her head.

“Getting a drink?” Hadn’t Jemma said that earlier?

“I mean, what are you doing with Fitz?”

Oh. Jemma’s eyes fell to the floor. “I can’t do anything with Fitz.”

“Good. He doesn’t need to be hurt. I’ve known him for several years, and I’ve never seen him like this, but I don’t know you. If you think you’re going to use him for a last pre-wedding—”

“Stop,” Jemma said, low and urgent. The accusation stung, even though Jemma had thought the same thing about herself. It was time to end whatever farce she was putting herself through. Jemma had decided her life when she’d accepted Will’s proposal. “Please stop. I’m not like that. Fitz and I are planning a collaboration. And if you must know, yes, I wish I’d meet him some other time or way.” Jemma held up her left hand, where the ostentatious diamond Will had purchased rested on her fourth finger. “But, I have a fiancé.”

“That you love.”

Jemma’s tongue and lips wouldn’t move to answer that. Her head wouldn’t nod. The hesitation lasted so long that Elena frowned. “You need to think about things, but don’t use my friend.” Elena disappeared into the loo and shut the door with a bang.

Left alone, Jemma rubbed at her jaw. Fitz would be a good friend. All he could be was a friend. Will was the husband that fit with her plans. The careful plans she’d had since she was twelve. The doctorates, fellowships, awards, patents, working for a company with deep pockets, and marrying a man who every woman wanted and had the contacts to advance her career.

And she liked Will.

Or at least she liked the idea of him. Love had never been a big part of any of her equations. Will was handsome and charming. They had plenty to talk about.

Jemma frowned.

Plenty to talk about if the topic was Will and what Will was doing. He didn’t like her to bring her work home with her.

Damn it all to hell. Why was this happening now? Will had never been the greatest boyfriend, or lover, or fiancé, but being his wife would open doors to resources and funding. He’d be an excellent gene pool to draw from when it became time to have children, whenever that happened. He’d tabled that discussion until they’d been married five years, citing his career.

She’d carefully stowed away her dreams of a big family. As Will said, there’d be time later.

“Jemma,” Fitz's voice floated over the aisles. “I could use your help.” She hurried towards him, finding him staring at a huge rack of sweets. “I can’t decide. Maybe we can share. What do you want?” he asked.

“Kisses,” she said, eyeing a bag of the candy wrapped in festive green and red foil.

There was a sputtering cough from beside her. She turned to find a red-faced Fitz looking wide-eyed at her. It took a moment for Jemma to figure out what she’d said. She scrambled to grab and hold up the bag of candy.

Fitz looked more disappointed than anything else as he took the candy, and Jemma did her best to pretend that his expression was because he didn’t like Hersey’s chocolate all that much.

She got a bottle of water, and Fitz ended up with an orange Fanta that she would have teased him about if he was more to her than…more…

Jemma rubbed her eyes while the cashier bagged up their snacks.

She and Fitz joined Mack and Elena at the front of the store. They were looking at Mack’s mobile with unhappy faces. Behind them, fat snowflakes were pouring down hard enough to make it difficult to see the Volvo even though it was only as far away as the pumps.

Jemma pulled her mobile out. Alerts filled the screen. It must have been hours since she’d checked it because she’d been too wrapped up talking with Fitz. She pushed her hair out of her eyes. Most of the notifications were about the weather. One was from the airline company confirming that flights would be canceled for most of tomorrow too. There were several texts from Daisy. The first asking how she was doing, with a follow up one saying Daisy had texted Elena and learned that Jemma was sciencing with Fitz and that Daisy hoped they had fun. The third was a picture of condom package and an admonishment to stay safe. Jemma hastily deleted that one.

She checked her weather app, which was predicting a large amount of snow.

“They’re going to close the highway,” Fitz said. “I’ve got a message from a friend who works for NOAA.”

“I guess we’ll be staying here overnight.” Mack put an arm around Elena. “I’m sorry. We’ll get there tomorrow when the roads are clear,” he said to her.

“It’s okay. Nobody is going to be mad we're safe.” Elena took Mack’s phone and tapped the screen rapidly. “This town is tiny, and the motels are filled up. There’s a bed and breakfast with open rooms, but we better hurry.”

“I’ll be right there,” Jemma said, typing out a message to Will to let him know about stopping. Cold air and snow swept in around her ankles as the others left the shop.

 **This is unacceptable,** came the immediate reply.

**They’re closing the highway. The wedding isn’t until five. I’ll make it. We’re about four hours out.**

**Fine.**

Jemma typed. ‘Love you, see you tomorrow’. Her finger hovered over the send key. Looking up, she saw Fitz standing in the snow, the bright lights on the gas station haloing his curls. Flakes were catching in it as he held out a hand towards her.

She deleted the message, put away the phone, and rushed out to keep Fitz from getting any colder.


	2. Silent Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm off to work this morning in dreadful weather, so if I haven't responded it to you comment about chapter one yet, don't worry, I'll do so ASAP and I've read and loved it! I hope you're having as much fun reading this as I did writing it! :-D <3

Fitz hugged himself as if he could keep the avalanche of Christmas decorations festooning the lobby of the B&B from imparting any sort of holiday cheer to him. Jemma stood by the roaring fireplace, warming her hands, and cooing over the mantlepiece trimmings.

They were very festive. As was the cloying scent invading his nose that probably had a name like ‘holiday delight’ or ‘gingerbread wassail’. He’d call it bloody awful.

The woman running the inn had assured all of them she had room, and Mack and Elena were leaning against each other, laughing, as the hostess checked them in. Mack kissed his wife before grabbing their suitcases and running up the stairs, Elena close behind him.

At least somebody was having fun.

“Now you two dears are in luck because I only have one room left, but it’s the honeymoon suite,” the hostess beamed at him as his stomach went into free fall. His eyes met Jemma’s, but hers were unreadable.

One room left.

Fitz wanted to scream, but he couldn’t tell this charming woman with her crown of tight gray curls that he couldn’t share a room with Jemma. What reason would he give? _I’m falling madly in love with this woman, and she’s getting married tomorrow, so I can’t sleep beside her because I might attempt to seduce her and contaminate the start of her marriage with adultery._ The hostess would probably die of a heart attack. Jemma would never forgive him. Instead, he pasted on a smile and pulled his wallet out. “We are lucky. I can’t imagine being snowed in at a better place.”

“Scottish!” the hostess exclaimed. “Wait until my bookclub hears about this. And don’t worry, I’m not a grinch. I’m not going to charge you extra for the room, even though it’s the only one with its own bathroom. You two don’t have too much fun.” She winked at Jemma, who was standing beside the lobby’s Christmas tree with a plastered-on smile.

“We’ll behave properly,” she said, flickering her hair over her shoulder.

“Oh, English! You’ll have to tell me how you two met over tea tomorrow.”

Fitz scrawled his name on the receipt, trying not to think about how much he was paying for the pleasure of sleeping on the floor. He picked up his bag, and Jemma retrieved her suitcase, carryon, and what he assumed was her wedding dress in a garment bag the size of London, and followed him as he trudged up the stairs.

At the top, he paused and turned to her. “Sorry,” he said in a low voice. “But there wasn’t any other option.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jemma said. “What my fiancé doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and you and I are both adults. We can behave.” She took the key from him and marched down the hall. He glowered at her back. Sure, behave, because his brain would function when he was cataloging all the ways he’d like to kiss her — soft, hard, first thing in the morning, and last thing at night. He’d hardly been able to think of anything else since he’d thought she’d been propositioning him in the shop. Neither of them had actually eaten any of the sweets. The bag had ended up stuffed in his suitcase.

“I’ll take the floor,” Fitz said, reluctantly, as his back was already protesting after being in the rear seat of a car all day, but he could at least be a gentleman in that regard.

Jemma opened the room’s door and froze. “That might be a problem.”

He looked around her. The room wasn’t all that large. A king-sized bed took up most of the space. Furniture had been crowded in around it, but nowhere was there more than a foot of room between the bed and a table, wall, or dresser. More Christmas decorations covered every available surface, and the room even had a short tree standing in front of the bay window. It all smelled like cinnamon.

Festive.

“Bollocks,” he whispered. It felt like the universe was conspiring against him. It wasn’t fair. He needed to put space between him and the most alluring woman he’d ever met, not spend the night with her in the same blasted bed. He already knew he’d never be the same, and that he’d do anything to keep her as a friend. Her dealing with eight hours of him trying not to roll on top of her wasn’t going to endear him to her.

“It’s good. It’s a large bed. We each take a side, and we’ll never even know the other person’s there.” The look on her face said otherwise. His heart, and other parts, said otherwise as well. Not a single second would go by that he wouldn’t be excruciatingly aware of Jemma.

“I don’t want to make things difficult for you,” he said. “I can sleep on the couch in the lobby.” More like stay awake all night on the couch in the lobby. His back liked that idea less than the floor.

She dropped her luggage on one side of the bed. “And I don’t want to make things hard for you.” He fumbled his suitcase, dropping it on the floor. Jemma winced but continued. “I’m getting married tomorrow. This is unusual, but we both need the rest, and I won’t relax if I know you’re freezing and uncomfortable. We’re simply in an odd situation, but we need to…we need to get over this…whatever it is if we’re going to collaborate in the future.”

Oh great, now she’d acknowledged the tension. Out loud. With words.

“I’m going to shower,” he said, turning and heading into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. His hands shook as he turned the water on.

Alone, under the spray, he tried to imagine being the kind of person who would walk out there and tell Jemma that he didn’t care they’d met when she was traveling to her own wedding and that he didn’t care he’d known her less than a day. She was the one. They should be spending a lifetime side by side in a lab, the other an arm’s length away, and there should be endless nights in one bed.

He sighed, hanging his head.

Somehow, tomorrow he’d say goodbye, she’d say I do to another man, and the world would keep turning.

Dry and dressed in his clothes again, because he hadn’t brought his suitcase into the bathroom, he exited to find the room mostly dark, with only the multicolored lights on the tree giving the space a soft glow. Jemma was lying on top of the blankets, also still wearing her traveling clothes, with her eyes closed.

He lay down as close to the edge of the bed on his side as he could without falling off. “Do you want to shower?” he asked.

Her voice sounded crisp as she replied, “In the morning.”

They lay in silence as the minutes dragged on. Fitz stared at the ceiling, unable to even consider sleeping. Every detail of their time in the car replayed in over and over in his memory. Jemma was so bright and her thought process flowed like his, making it the best conversation he’d had in his life. It felt like after years and years of being lost at sea he had finally come home.

He wanted more.

“Are you awake?” he asked, as the B&B’s heater chugged on.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to talk about the applications of your—”

“No.”

His heart sank.

****

Jemma rolled towards Fitz, who was lying ramrod straight and stiff on the bed. Everything was impossible. She couldn’t explain to him that she didn’t want to discuss her research because it felt too much like flirting.

She’d want to kiss him when he made comments that showed he understood her methodology, or grab his arse when he had an insight into the data analysis. He seemed to have no clue how irresistible he was.

But this silent, sullen farce couldn’t go on. “I’m not sleepy,” Jemma said, which was the truth, her body hummed from being close to him. “What if we put our coats and went to play in the snow?”

Fitz’s head turned towards her, and his nose wrinkled up. “It’s freezing out there.”

“It’s winter. I believe that’s to be expected in this part of the world.”

Fitz snorted. “Fine. But if I catch something, you better make me hot t…uh…send a card.”

Jemma poked his shoulder, annoyed by his scientific inaccuracy. “That’s a myth, and you know it. The only thing you’re going to catch is a snowball to the knee.”

“What?”

Laughing, she stood up and retrieved her coat, along with her matching set of bright green hat, gloves, and a scarf from her bag.

Fitz pulled on his winter gear too, curls peeking out from under a serviceable black knit cap, and followed her into the hallway. They crept down the stairs and out a side door. The lights of the B&B illuminated the clean expanse of pristine snow that covered the large lot of the inn. Flakes were still falling, though not as intensely as before. Plows would already be out clearing the roads.

They only had a few stolen hours together.

Jemma inhaled the chilly air, letting it fill her. She stepped off the stoop, the snow crunching under her boots. She started to pivot towards Fitz. “It so beaut—” Her words changed to a yelp as a loosely packed snowball crashed into the front of her coat.

She brushed it away, laughing, as Fitz grinned, the smile boyish, and reached down for another handful. She darted to the side, skimming snow off a railing as she went.

The next snowball missed her, but she caught him in the side. “You’re so going down!” he cried, running after her as she shaped another snowball. He hit her shoulder, and she twisted, catching his hip even as her feet went out from under her, and she ended up on her back. She laughed, defying the gloominess of the dark sky above her.

Fitz held his hand out, panting. “Do you have any ideas that aren’t good?” he asked. 

Jemma grabbed his fingers. “Of course not.”

He tugged her, only for his own feet to skid out from under him. Jemma ended up pulling him right on top of her. Fitz’s body, surprisingly heavy, pinned her to the snow. His face was centimeters from hers, the mist from their panting breaths intermingling. Slow flakes clung to his dark eyelashes and settled on his brow.

Being close to him had been what she’d tried to avoid by coming outside. She’d wanted to get away from the pull of him. She should have known it’d be impossible. They were drawn together like opposite poles of a magnet.

Jemma’s body burned for Fitz in a way that made the cold snow beneath her feel like a relief. His nose skimmed her cheek, and she whimpered.

Just a taste. She could have one taste.

Fitz abruptly laughed and rolled to the side, denying her a kiss. Relief and anger tugged at her. He’d broken the moment, though if they’d started, Jemma doubted she would have stopped with merely one kiss.

“Snow angels?” he asked, voice unusually high.

She obediently flapped her arms and legs before pushing herself to stand up as Fitz did the same. She looked at their snow angels, side by side, and her heart clenched. Though soon, the wind or the sun would wash the shapes away. Life would do the same for these hours before her marriage. Nobody else would ever know they’d been there at all.

“We should go inside,” Fitz said, his tone flat.

“Yes, I’m quite chilled.” She wasn’t. She wanted to build a snowman, or a fort, or…or never have the day end. She wanted more time with him. To play. To not have responsibilities like being perfect for the press cameras that’d be at the wedding tomorrow.

Her wedding.

It felt like it was happening to someone else. The person she’d be as Will’s wife. The one who’d graciously host dinner parties and be at every launch for photos ops. Snowball fights not included.

A blanket of lead settled over her, and her feet dragged as she walked back towards the house.

From somewhere distant came a faint pop, the lights of the inn flickered and went out, plunging them into darkness. Jemma immediately grabbed Fitz’s arm.

“It’s alright,” he said. “I’ve got my mobile.” He turned on the torch and led them back inside and up to their room, where she grabbed her mobile from her night table — no messages from Will. The room grew cooler by the second as she stared at the blank screen.

“Why don’t you change into dry clothes in the bathroom, and I’ll do the same?” Fitz said gruffly. “With the heat off, we’ll need the quilts.”

Being buried with Fitz under the blankets sounded like paradise. Dangerous paradise, but she only nodded and took her warmest pajamas into the bathroom, where she propped her phone and its light on the counter.

In warm and dry clothes, she put her hand on the doorknob, steeling herself. Why hadn’t she had these doubts earlier? No, that wasn’t right. She had. She’d worried about whether or not she was making the right choice. If the years ahead would give her what she wanted, and the answer had been yes, because being married to Will opened otherwise closed doors to money and influence her work needed. Grants were hard to come by, and she’d been more than willing to trade her prestige as a top researcher to give Will’s career a shine while accepting her role as a supportive, smiling wife to ensure funding for her projects.

She hadn’t seen another way.

Until a kind, handsome, highly intelligent man had shown her a different path she could have taken. One with shared passions. Would Fitz want to wait for children? She couldn’t ask, but she could imagine him holding a newborn, cradling it in his arms.

She looked down at her clenched fists. That life would belong to another woman. With his brains and handsome face, he’d be married before he knew it, and have a family he’d dote on.

It was far too late for Jemma to get jealous over that idea. She’d have her own path, which would be very different, but the importance of her work would make up for it. It had to, she’d already made her decision. The ring on her finger felt like it weighed a ton. She took it off and shoved it into her toiletry bag.

Pressing her lips into a line, she left the bathroom to find Fitz standing in front of her garment bag, the top unzipped as he shone his torch on her wedding dress. She could have gone her entire life without seeing him with his curls mussed while in a t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms.

“You’re going to look amazing,” he said. “I wish I could see you in it.” The light caught on tiny crystals that were part of the embroidery on the front, making the dress glimmer like a disco ball. She’d wanted a plain bodice, but this one would look better in photos, according to Will. 

Jemma couldn’t invite Fitz to her wedding, seeing his face in the crowd would make her weep, and Will would chastise her for ruining her makeup. And she didn’t think Fitz wanted to be asked to attend. Not in a million years. So she choked out the only words she could. “Thank you.”

He zipped up the bag, turned off the light on his mobile, and climbed into the bed soundlessly. Following suit, she slipped between startling cold sheets. Pulling them up to her nose, she closed her eyes tight.

“Good-night, Fitz,” she whispered.

****

He still couldn’t sleep. Cold nipped at his nose and toes. The blankets were doing a piss poor job of keeping out the chill.

From far on the other side of the bed, Jemma shivered. She’d curled into a tighter ball, but he doubted she was warm. She shivered again, her teeth chattering.

Damn it.

“Jemma?” he said.

“Yes-s-s?”

He swallowed, knowing they needed to be closer for warmth, even if it would be the end of him. He’d haunt his own life after this, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking. “For one night, let me pretend that you’re mine, and I have any right to hold you and keep you warm.”

“I won’t have s--”

“Not that,” he reassured her. “I just want to put my arm around you. My hands will behave if you promise yours will too.”

She hesitated, and he almost gave up. “I’m arguing with my hands,” Jemma said, voice soft and uncertain. “But I think…please.”

It was all the confirmation he needed. Fitz scooted towards the middle of the bed at the same time she did. He put an arm over her and pulled her close. She tucked herself against his chest, their legs tangled, and he nearly cried with relief just from being close to her.

Jemma fit perfectly against him as if they’d been made to hold each other. She’d tucked her arms against her, leaving her hands free to play with the front of his shirt. She drew her fingertip in patterns over him, as if she was tattooing a part of herself onto his skin. Her name had already branded itself on his fool heart.

He had to distract himself, or he’d be unable to stop himself from kissing her. He knew one topic that’d be a bucket of cold water for both of them.

“Who is this fellow you’re marrying,” he asked, suddenly desperate to know after refusing to even think about the bloke all day. “He must be quite something.” Something he could never measure up to.

Jemma shifted slightly. “Um, I’m…Will Daniels, the astronaut?”

“Oh.” Bloody hell, of course. She was marrying a national hero. “Maybe you should tell me about him? All I know is that I’ve read about him in the papers.” He was good looking, charismatic, and had single-handedly saved a space capsule and its crew when half the thrusters had stopped working. Though it wasn’t Will she cuddled right now, but Fitz. He had her sweet scent in his nose and her thighs against his. Also, if Fitz had been to one to design the thruster system, it wouldn’t have failed in the first place.

Jemma blew out a breath. “Will’s very…nice. And symmetrical.”

Fitz managed not to laugh. “What else?” he prompted. “That’s not exactly most people’s basis for marrying.”

“Well, he has a lot of connections. Ones I need, and he appreciates that I make him look more worldly and intelligent. Not that he’s dumb, but he’s not into the hard sciences.”

Her voice sounded resigned, and it tore into Fitz. She should never have to settle for anything. Let alone being a trophy wife. At least Will had chosen her based on more than just her looks, so Fitz couldn’t fault the berk there, even if he’d like to.

“And you love him?” Fitz thought she might be able to feel his heart pounding against his ribs. He’d thought this entire time that Jemma felt some of the same pull towards him that he felt towards her, but maybe he’d been wrong. Perhaps she was nervous about marrying somebody so far up the food chain and had needed the ego boost of having someone fall head over heels for her. If that’d been the case, Fitz was glad she’d picked him.

“I’m marrying Will,” she answered softly. Fitz felt her draw into herself.

“Not the question.” At all. 

Silence filled the room. Jemma barely seemed to be breathing. “I used to think I did. A little. That’d it’d grow, and that not feeling too strongly would make any problems in the marriage easier to solve.” She shuddered slightly, but he didn’t think it was from cold. They were toasty, snuggled together under the blankets. Even his feet had thawed.

Fitz rubbed his hand over her back, waiting, and trying not to let anything like hope curl around his heart.

“Now I know I was very wrong,” she said in a small, sad voice.

He didn’t need to ask how she’d decided that, but he needed to plow ahead, to settle in his mind what her choice would be. “But you’re marrying him anyway.”

“I need him,” she said dryly. “Realities of the world are that research into dendrotoxins is neither cheap nor easy to get grants for. Being the wife of a famous astronaut will keep the money flowing.”

He understood. As much as he hated it, he understood, having scrabbled for grants many times. “Will loves you?”

“He hasn’t messaged me since the convenience store when I said we were getting snowed in.”

“Christ,” Fitz said, taken by surprise. “I wouldn’t stop texting you if I didn’t know you were safe, I’d have alerts for things like the power outage and would have already sent updated information from the utility—”

Jemma’s fingers dug into his chest. “Stop, you’re making this worse. We’ll be friends, Fitz. You can’t wait around for me to come to my senses and get a divorce. You understand me?”

“Yes.” Pain drove through his middle. It physically hurt that he couldn’t simply keep her. Couldn’t spend every day building memories with her. But he knew what his role in her life could be. Despite what he’d just agreed to, he wouldn’t stop trying to make her happy. That would be his way through this. Jemma might have decided she could live with a certain amount of unhappiness in her life, but he didn’t have to agree to that. “Let’s change the topic. Can you tell me about how you’re buffering the solutions you’re making? Does molecular decompensation affect concentration?”

Her entire body changed, like a sunflower tilting towards the morning light, and he could feel her smile against his chest.

Even with the power out, the world got a little brighter


	3. Joy To The World

Jemma woke up much warmer than she’d gone to sleep. The power had come back on at some point. The heater must be making up for lost time, though the comfortable, languid warmth might also be from how she was still cuddled tight against Fitz. He’d rolled onto his back at some point and she’d snuggled against his side, his arm around her and her head pillowed on his chest.

It made for a nice pillow.

She pressed her face into his the crook of his neck trying to memorize the male, Fitz scent of him.

Before she got married.

Her heart lurched.

“Shh,” Fitz whispered when she started to move. “A few more minutes to pretend.” She lay back against him, listening to his heartbeat as his fingers toyed with her hair.

Her chest ached more and more in his embrace until she couldn’t stand it, and she pushed herself away from Fitz and out of bed. “I need to shower,” she snapped, though it wasn’t him she was angry at, but herself.

He nodded, not otherwise moving.

When she had the water running, steam rising from it, she almost couldn’t step in. She knew it was silly, but it was like she was washing Fitz off her skin. She should have kissed him.

Made love to him.

Done anything besides tell him all the things she couldn’t do.

Back in the bedroom, she lost the battle with her tears, because Fitz had already packed up and left as if he’d never been there. It was a preview of the rest of her life, which would be a whirlwind of social and media engagements with Will, working to secure her research funding, and then the long stretches of the year when her husband would be on the ISS, and she’d be buried in her research.

How many emails would be too many between her and Fitz?

With a few last sniffs, Jemma dressed simply in jeans and a jumper. She returned her engagement ring to her finger before heading downstairs with her luggage. The wedding dress felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. She dumped the bags near the door and looked around for everyone else. Fitz, Mack, and Elena were already seated in the breakfast room, along with a few other guests. She made herself tea before heading for the table.

Elena jumped up for a quick, one-armed hug. “There’s the bride.” Fitz winced, his eyes on his mug. “Did you sleep well?” Elena asked. “We nearly froze with the power out.” She patted Mack’s hand as he sipped coffee. Jemma envied them their easy love.

“Me too,” Jemma said, settling into the chair across from Fitz. He had his mobile on the table and was flipping through weather alerts. She wished she could erase his frown, but they were back in the real world now.

The hostess, all bright eyes and wearing a Christmas jumper, appeared and set a plate of toast on the table. “Good morning! I see everyone survived the chill. Were the beds comfortable?”

“Fine,” Jemma said at the same time as Fitz. Their eyes met briefly before hers darted away to look at a poinsettia while Fitz focused on his mobile.

“Ours was wonderful,” Elena said, cutting a piece of waffle with her fork. “We hardly knew the power was off we were so warm tucked in together.”

The hostess smiles. “Bless. And I’m sure you two kept each other warm as well.” She grinned at Fitz and Jemma, who did her best to smile back. Fitz didn’t look up, but his hold on his mobile tightened.

“We stayed warm enough,” she said, trying for cheery.

Mack and Elena frowned at her while the hostess clapped in delight. “Let me know if you need more to eat.”

She left with a little wave, and Mack and Elena turned their gazes to Fitz and Jemma.

“So,” Mack said. “There was only one other room with one bed?”

Fitz cleared his throat.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Jemma said. “Thankfully, it was a large bed. We hardly knew the other was there all night.”

Elena shared a dubious glance with Mack. “I’m sure.” She drained her coffee cup. They ate in silence, Jemma not daring to look at Fitz. It was unfair. She and Fitz actually hadn’t done anything wrong. Or almost nothing wrong. Okay, so she might have lain curled up in bed with a man who wasn’t her almost-husband the night before her wedding, but there’d been no sex — not even a kiss.

She certainly hadn’t done a single one of the things she’d wanted to do with Fitz, which had been the right choice. How could she lie in her marriage bed and look in her husband’s eyes, knowing what she’d done while Will…made love wasn’t the right word. Had sex with her? Had she ever made love with Will?

The thought wouldn’t leave her as she finished breakfast and stood in the lobby, studying the Christmas tree, while Mack and Fitz went out to clean off the car and get it running.

“Did you fuck him?” Elena asked, coming to stand beside her.

“No,” Jemma said. “I’ll probably regret that decision my entire life.”

Elena put a hand on Jemma’s arm, then drew her into a hug. “Then why are you marrying this other man?”

“Because I am.” The reasons were getting to be more and more meaningless, but she’d never deviated from the trajectory she’d set her life on. It’d never even been a question before.

“I hope you find your heart soon,” Elena said, patting Jemma’s back before stepping away.

Jemma swept her hair out of her face. “Did you know for sure when you married Mack? That he was the one?”

“When I married him? Yes. But it was rocky along the way. We broke up. I spent a year with someone else.” Elena’s face scrunched up, and she rounded on Jemma. “Don’t get it wrong, marry the one you’re supposed to be with.” Elena jammed a knit cap on her head and marched out the door to the car.

Jemma groaned. That hadn’t helped. Of course she didn’t want to get this wrong. But would this thing with Fitz fizzle out? Then she’d spend the rest of her life regretting she’d tossed out her plan. She knew exactly what she was getting into with Will. Four hundred people would be arriving at a church soon, expecting to see the wedding of the year. The press would be there.

Jemma hefted her wedding dress.

She’d be wearing it today.

Because she’d said she’d marry Will, and she couldn’t upend that because of a man she’d just met. No matter how well they got along or how he made her body feel.

She just couldn’t.

****

The drive into New York had been slow going, and at first, Fitz had fallen back into the easy conversation with Jemma. She had opinions about the design update of his centrifuge he was working on, and they’d spent several happy hours as the car crawled its way across Pennsylvania.

After a quick lunch at a sandwich place, the little bubble around Jemma and him had popped.

She’d gotten a series of texts from her fiancé, and now a phone call.

“Hello?” she answered, and Fitz squished himself against the door of the car. A wall slammed down between him and Jemma. He hated it. Turning his head, he watched the snowy landscape slide by instead of the love of his life talk to a man Fitz could never live up to. Only he couldn’t turn off his ears. Jemma sighed. “We’re on the way. The roads aren’t great, but yes, I’ll tell Mack to hurry. He’s going to drop me off at the church.”

Fitz leaned his head against the window, the glass cold and hard.

“You want me to call the caterers?” Jemma sounded less than pleased. “Yes, I’m aware I hired them. I’m sorry you don’t like the appetizer menu. I’ll see if they can add in salmon.” She paused. “I’ll call them now.”

What followed was a lot of back at forth with the caterers, Will, and one of Jemma’s friends who was there.

Fitz felt forgotten. Which only made sense. He wasn’t a part of this. He pulled up an article to read as Jemma tried to coordinate the wedding set up from the backseat of a moving car.

Eventually, the countryside turned to city. Bright Christmas lights glittered on houses in store windows. Fitz didn’t share their cheer. The car stopped at a red light. A gift shop on the corner looked filled to the brim with last-minute shoppers. A tree stood in the window, covered in ornaments. He could all too easily see a cozy living room, the tree in the corner, a mound of presents awaiting little fingers to tear them open. Fitz sighed and rubbed his temples. That picture would never be complete without Jemma.

There were a lot of lonely Christmases ahead of Fitz.

The light changed, the Volvo pulled away, and the shop disappeared behind them.

The skyscrapers of Manhattan grew around them, a steel forest that hid the sky. Fitz hunched down in his seat as a festively decorated church came into view. It was enormous, with towering stained-glass windows and spires that reached to the sky. It appeared as if half of New York milled on the pavement outside the stately edifice. Mack pulled over to the curb and jumped out to get Jemma’s luggage.

Jemma sat stony-faced, staring at the building.

Fitz put a hand on her knee. “I’m glad I met you,” he said. It was the truth. Whoever he’d been yesterday morning, before she’d sat down beside him in the car, had been changed irrevocably. He belonged to Jemma, even if a place barely existed for him in her life.

Her face raised to his. “Me too.”

Fitz took her hand, his thumb sliding over her knuckles. Jemma bit her lip, looked down at their conjoined hands, and then pulled away. She rocketed out of the car, muttered thanks to Mack and Elena, and disappeared through the front door of the church.

Not even a goodbye.

He dropped his head into his hands, fingers yanking at his hair. The emptiness of the seat beside him mocked him as Mack drove the blocks to Fitz’s building.

At the curb, he shoved a handful of cash into Mack’s hand for the ride, thanked him, and bolted to the boot to get his things. He needed to be alone. Maybe get really pissed, or call his mum and talk about places and people he hadn’t seen in far too long. Set up a trip home in the spring so he’d have something to look forward to.

And not speak at all that he was the kind of barmy git who fell in love in a few hours only to get his heart shattered the next day.

He reached for his suitcase, only to find Mack’s hand in the way as his friend pulled the bag out.

“I can get it,” Fitz griped.

“I know, but then I couldn’t talk to you.”

Fitz put his hands on his hips. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not. Why don’t you come home with us? Have dinner tonight and breakfast on Christmas?”

“I’m not fit company at the moment. You’re going to have to excuse me.”

Mack crossed his arms. “Why are you so damn torn up about this woman?”

It’d be so easy to lie, to say it was something else, or that Christmas brought back memories of Fitz’s Da leaving, but instead the need to say all the things clamoring around his skull had him speaking before he could stop himself. It all came out in a rush. “Because she’s the one. She’s the love of my life, and I can’t bloody have her. I love her. She lay in my arms all night, telling me she’s marrying someone she doesn’t love and who doesn’t love her. So I’m going to do what I can. I’m going to make her as happy as I am able to as often as she’ll let me.” He put a hand against the car to steady himself as his knees tried to give out. His eyes fixed on a patch of dirty snow on the ground. A few flakes drifted down from the sky to join it.

“Hey,” Mack said softly. “That’s a lot, but I have a question before I go. Not for you to answer, but to think about. If you’re planning to work at making her happy because you love her and this guy she’s marrying doesn’t, then how’s that helping her be happy? Does she know you feel like this? Maybe you should give her a choice. And then you two can make really smart babies together.” Mack clapped Fitz on the shoulder and return to his car, driving off to go back to his normal life, with a wife he loved. Lucky bastard.

Fitz grabbed his bag and rolled it into the building with Mack’s words swirling around and around his head. He knew that if a system had a known problem before launch, you should delay the launch of the product or software to fix it rather than trying to patch it afterward. Attempting to put a smile on Jemma’s face after she got caught up in whatever life with Will would be like spitting on a forest fire.

He walked into his flat, looked around at the plain walls that no longer felt like home.

Because home had become a person.

It was ridiculous that he was standing here contemplating eating a bag of chocolate kisses for supper, when he knew what he had to do.

He had to tell her. He had to try. Dropping his bag, he rushed out of his apartment, clattered down the steps, and out into the fading light and falling snow.

His breath burned in his lungs as he ran for the subway station. Fitz had a wedding to stop.

****

Jemma sat in front of a huge oval mirror, not facing it, as her bridesmaid Bobbi combed out her hair. The little preparation room was just outside the nave, and the murmur of the wedding guests and the sound of the string quartet warming up worked their way through the door, making Jemma grit her teeth.

She didn’t want to be here.

She wanted to be excitedly discussing a project with Fitz in the back of a car. Playing in the snow with him. Lying just one moment longer in his arms.

“Is everything okay?” Bobbi muttered.

“I don’t know.” Jemma didn’t. Part of her had believed everything would be better when she saw Will. That her worries would be less, that the feelings for Fitz would seem childish and silly. Instead, Will had looked smaller than she remembered and hadn’t done more than touch her arm and hiss at her to hurry up and get ready, because everyone was waiting.

She would always be a prop for him, not a wife. Not someone he loved.

She’d never be in love with Will. Her heart had found where it belonged.

A message popped up on her phone from Daisy. **Glad you made it safely! Merry almost Christmas and happy wedding. Unless you’re not getting married. That’s an option too.**

“Jemma?” Bobbi said.

“I don’t love Will,” she blurted. “Maybe I did, once upon a time, when it was glamorous and new, but not…not deeply, even then.”

“Uh—” Bobbi looked at the door. “You’re just figuring this out? After Hunter and I flew to New York? I could have told you that months ago.”

“I’m sorry.” She looked down at her ridiculous wedding dress. Yards and yards of heavy fabric she felt adrift in. You shouldn’t get married in a dress you didn’t like.

Bobbi crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “What happened?”

“I met someone yesterday. I might be in love with him. He’s an engineer, brilliant. He invented the A-17—”

“Which is your favorite centrifuge.” Bobbi rolled her eyes. “You might have mentioned it more than once.”

“Well, yes, it’s an impressive piece of technology, but he’s…I’ve never wanted to spend my life exploring someone before.”

Bobbi leaned against the door, a wistful smile on her face. “I know that feeling.”

“I’m not going to marry Will.” Jemma shot to her feet. “You have to get me out of here. I’m making a mistake.” Her stomach churned. Fitz might not even be willing to see her after she’d run from him without a goodbye, but she still couldn’t marry someone she didn’t love. And if Fitz second-guessed her, she would just have to show him how good a girlfriend she could be.

Her head spun as her life spooled out from her, two paths, one with Will, hobnobbing with the rich and famous, a huge house, her work filling up every second of her waking moments when she wasn’t required to put on a show as an astronauts wife. Perhaps a child in time, with a nanny, and boarding schools. Her research would be her real family, and she’d return at night to an empty house that never felt like home. Or she could have a much smaller house, filled with laughter and schematics taped to walls, children’s drawings beside them. Endless time spent with the ones she cared for and night after night spent wrapped in Fitz’s arms.

Seeing is so starkly made the choice obvious.

“I really have to go,” Jemma said, but Bobbi motioned for her to keep silent.

“Something’s going on,” Bobbi whispered, cracking the door and slipping through. The voices of the crowd became louder, and there were sounds of a commotion. What was happening? If a scene had everyone’s attention, maybe Jemma could slip away.

The door opened, and Bobbi stuck her head in. “This engineer of yours doesn’t happen to be Scottish, does he?”

“What?”

“Jemma!” Fitz’s raised voice rang out. “Jemma!”

Her pulse thundered. He’d come for her. She should have known Fitz would figure out this wedding couldn’t happen. Joy exploded like a supernova inside her.

“I’ll text you when I know where you can bring my bags,” Jemma said, pushing past Bobbi. She grabbed her skirts and ran for Fitz.

Will and several groomsmen, all square, tall astronauts, had blocked Fitz’s way.

“I have to get to her,” Fitz growled, attempting to push past them.

“Who are you? Do you have an invitation?” Will asked, frowning. Jemma skittered to a stop beside Will, and Fitz’s eyes rounded as his gaze swept up and down her.

“I’ll take care of this,” she said to Will, her voice sounding much calmer than she felt.

Will made a face. “You better. The ceremony starts in ten minutes and your hair isn’t done.”

Jemma blinked up at him. “Don’t worry about my hair.”

“It’s a mess,” he said. “You’re going to be on camera.”

Fitz’s face flushed. “She looks like a goddess and all—”

Jemma stopped him with a palm held out. “I said I’m taking care of this,” this time she directed the words towards Fitz, who pouted at her. She turned back to Will. “And don’t worry about my hair because there’s not going to be a ceremony. I know you hate last-minute changes, but I won’t be marrying you. Today, or ever.” She pulled off her engagement ring and pushed it into his palm.

“Jemma,” he sputtered.

“It’s over, Will, it never really began. Find a trophy wife that wants to be one.”

She turned away from him and held her hand out to Fitz. “We better run before the media finds us.” The chatter around them kept rising and volume. She glanced at the finely dressed crowd. She really didn’t know any of these people. This had never been her wedding.

Fitz didn’t hesitate. He grabbed her hand, interlaced their fingers, and pulled her towards the exit. Outside, snow fell in thick drifts, but she only laughed when her pumps skidded on patches of ice during their rush down the pavement. Her grip on Fitz’s hand kept her upright. Barely a block later they were descending into the subway. The air warmer, thick with the scent of damp coats, and filled the sound of someone playing Joy to the World on the harmonica. She and Fitz ran, barely making the train’s doors before they closed.

Her heart pounded, from running, from bliss, from being in love.

Fitz cupped her cheek. “Don’t ever almost marry someone else ever bloody again.” His cheeks were pink, his eyes dancing. He swept her into a hug, clutching her tight, and then his mouth was on hers.

She clutched his jumper as her knees turned to jelly, and desire flared to brilliant life in her belly.

His lips were soft and warm. They fitted perfectly against hers, and when he tilted his head slightly, letting his lips part, her tongue darted into his mouth, boldly exploring as she learned the contours of his teeth, which were not quite the same from on side to the other, and loving him all the more for the imperfection.

She’d know all of him before Christmas Eve became Christmas morning.

The kiss broke, and she gazed into his eyes as he grinned at her. The subway car broke into applause, and her cheeks heated as she finally glanced around. The car was packed, with people old and young, there was graffiti on the walls, and it all smelled like people who wanted to be anywhere else, but at the moment they were all smiling at her.

“She didn’t marry the wrong guy,” Fitz said loudly, holding her tight.

“You better get her home and warm her up,” said an older man in a thick New York accent, nudging the woman next to him, who swatted his arm affectionately.

“I’ll warm him up,” Jemma said, laughing.

Fitz kissed her again, pressing her against the pole next to the door, and Jemma knew she’d never be cold again.

****

_Five Years Later_

“I can’t believe you still have this hanging on the wall,” Elena said, bouncing her young son in her arms.

Jemma looked up from rolling out sugar cookie dough to see what Elena meant. Quite a few covers from magazines graced their hallway, most talking about Jemma and Fitz as science’s “power couple”, but the one that had Elena frowning was a blurry photo of her and Fitz lip-locked in a subway car with the headline: _Scotsman Steals Astronaut’s Bride_.

“Ah, Fitz is quite proud of that one,” Jemma said with a laugh. Daisy grinned from where she was sorting through a huge tub of cookie cutters.

Bobbi sat at the kitchen table, nursing her daughter. “What I remember is it took Jemma three days to remember to text me the address of Fitz’s apartment.”

“I was busy.” Jemma looked down as little hand tugged at her trousers.

“Mummy,” her three-year-old daughter said. “Cookies for Santa?”

“I’m making them, is daddy still in the garage?”

Her daughter nodded. Fitz had dragged Mack, Hunter, and Daisy’s girlfriend Piper out to see his newest control box for the lights that covered absolutely all of their house, yard, and trees. Her husband took Christmas very seriously.

“Go tell them fifteen minutes,” she said to her daughter, and the little girl, with her father’s eyes and curls the color of Jemma’s hair, ran for the garage. That she wouldn’t exist if there hadn’t been a big snowstorm half a decade ago was something Jemma thought about far too often.

“What did you get Fitz this year?” Elena asked. “I got Mack a new smartwatch. He won’t shut up about those things.”

Daisy smirked. “I’m not saying what I got Piper with babies present.”

Bobbi chuckled as she caressed the wispy, blonde curls on her little one’s head. “I got Hunter a drone with a camera mount. He keeps coming up with reasons he needs one. And I know what Jemma got Fitz.”

“How do you know and I don’t?” Elena patted her son’s bum as he snuggled against her shoulder.

“Because I’m part of it.”

Elena’s brow raised.

Jemma laughed. “She’s watching our daughter for us for a few days while I take Fitz back to a certain Bed and Breakfast in rural Pennsylvania.”

Elena snorted. “Are you actually going to sleep with him this time?”

“I’m tired of wishing I had, so yes. I’ve got the same room reserved and everything. And we’re trying for a second baby, so I thought it’d be a good luck charm, since that’s where we fell in love.”

Elena made a face. “You two fell in love the second you sat in that car together.”

“It was destiny,” Daisy said, handing a few cookie-cutters to Jemma.

She pressed a tree-shaped one into the rolled-out dough. She liked baking. It was chemistry you could eat. “You’re probably right.”

“I am always right.”

Bobbi laughed. “I wish I had a picture of Will’s face when you handed his ring back. Priceless.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” Daisy said. “If I’d known you were going to be a runaway bride, I would have made sure to be there.”

Jemma rolled her eyes, even as her heart glowed with the memories of her feelings when Fitz had shown up at the church. “It was quite a moment,” she allowed.

The door to the garage opened as the others returned, discussing wattage, with Fitz carrying his daughter. He kissed Jemma’s nose and picked up a reindeer cookie cutter after their daughter pointed to it. She watched in fascination as he showed her how to cut out the shape.

Jemma’s heart filled with all the joy and love around her. She knew she was right where she belonged, spending the night before Christmas Eve securely wrapped up with the man she loved, in their happy house, filled with love, books, and joy.

And many, many kisses.

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! :-D

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays 2019! You can yell at me here or on tumbler [ @sunalsolove ](https://sunalsolove.tumblr.com) This story is written for The Marvel HEA HQ's 2019 Holiday Event Prompt 9: An anxious bride-to-be (Character A, “bride” is non-gender assigned) throws in with broken-hearted and cynical Character B and a happily married couple for an emergency ride to NYC from New England.


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